Byker Books

 

 

The sweat from my brow stings my eyes as it meanders down the bridge of my nose. The anticipation is unbearable. The palms of my hands are cold and clammy. Nerves in my neck are twitching and it’s causing me to make involuntary movements with my head. My knees are aching from the shaking of my legs. My feet feel as heavy as anvils as I sit and wait for the inevitable.

Squinting, I strain to see the other side of the dark, smoke filled room. Neon lights and strobes are playing with my mind. Music is banging in my head, deep bass pounding repeatedly. A flash to the left from a strobe shows the crowd moving disjointedly to a rhythm that doesn’t match the beat. They have faces that only appear in my best nightmares.

The floor is vibrating beneath me. My mouth is gritty and my swallow hurts my throat. Furry teeth live in my mouth. I pop in some gum to sort it out. A shout from behind me, as the music ups tempo. The all too familiar giddiness is starting to take over. The sudden bowel movement as I release a silent dog fart into the atmosphere. The smell is sickening, a few people stare, but they say nothing.

As I stand, my feet become light. These legs are no longer my own, they belong to the lord of the beat. Tonight it is John Digweed. The toilet looms towards me; the blue neon sign says ‘Gents.’ Inside there are hundreds of zombies, shouting for no reason, hugging, kissing and looking worried. An empty cubicle calls to me. Darting forwards, I slam the door behind me and pray that there is paper…

As I burst from the toilet, the crowd turns to stare. They know the transformation is complete. An aspiring writer becomes a child of the night in ten short minutes. I sometimes wish my pen had the rhythm my body feels at times like these. I reach out to them, and they respond with kisses and hugs. They belong to me now and me to them. The rhythm takes me on, brushing hands and grabbing arses I move through the crowd. The language spoken is yet undiscovered, but all understand. The beautiful people are all out tonight.

Out of the toilets and into the dry heat of the club. Big smile and eyes like saucers. Now the crowd moves in time to the beat. The song takes over as my weightless body begins to move. Now the people are familiar? I know every one of them. Their features are plain to me, as my eyes see every detail of their faces. White teeth, yellow teeth, their shape and skin texture.

The crowd sucks me on to the dance floor and my work begins. My feet find the rhythm; my torso and arms join with them. Whistles are screaming at me to move faster and strobes light up my grey mind. The crowd moves as one, we unite in our debauchery. Hugging, kissing and feeling each other we make our way through the time that is now, right now. The song tells us of brothers and sisters uniting as one. We are the start of the movement, changing the world becomes not a task, but a reality.

My shirt is soaked through, but still the dance goes on, faster and faster as Digweed picks up the bass line. Pumping through my mind the chemical imbalance causes me to love everyone. Man and woman, it makes no difference, tonight everyone will get a kiss or a hug...

FLASH!

The lights burn my eyes, someone has pulled the Sun out of a bag in the middle of the dance floor. The music stops, people are screaming, they are herded into corners like frightened sheep. My eyes don’t register what’s happening. The lights are too bright. The pain streaks up my spine as the first blow hits me square in the back. I fall to the floor and feel the knees pressing down against my back and legs. No point in struggling, they are everywhere. Reality kicks in, as I feel the plastic ties rip in to the flesh of my wrists.

The vision of a cell in Durham Prison forms in my mind as the realisation of what is happening replaces the euphoria. They have me. It’s a result. They’re dragging me away. They don’t know how many I have, but they know that they have the dealer. Imagine their fucking faces when they find the two hundred or so pills and the ounce of coke neatly wrapped into gram pouches.

DARKNESS!

The walls are grey and bare; I’ll decorate them with porn pictures tomorrow. Just for tonight, I need them to be bare, empty, like my life. I reflect on what might have been the best night of my life, again. Why did I go there? New club, new people? I was on an invite that’s why, a friend of a friend. An undercover officer no less, the perfect set up. Still I ask myself “Did I really do anything wrong?” Yes I did. I committed the cardinal sin. You don’t do drugs when you’re selling them.

They say it is a cancer spreading across the world. I say it is the suppression of youth. The government and those who serve it are the new religion. Whether it is Bush or Brown at the helm, it makes no difference; you can only live your life within their parameters. While they pimp out their people to the vices they have created. The only crime I have committed is to sell an escape from the mundane world they have formed. A world where greed and aggression have the final say. Seven years I’ll have to repent for my actions, when all around me paedophiles and rapists walk free after five.

My crime was enjoyment; it was nothing to do with money. That just gave me the time to write. It was all about gathering the youth together to make sense of life. It did make sense for a while; it was a moment in time that will live forever. Now, I must write. They tell me if one of my stories is published, it will help my appeal. They could release me early, along with the rapists and paedophiles.

All I need to do is conform.

*****

Today, I got the news I was waiting for. My first book was accepted for publishing. My conformity is complete. Now I must wait, wait until the governors hear of my achievements. A copy arrived at the prison library for the inmates to read. Proudly it sits alone on a shelf. No one will read it, not in here. The title stares out at me from the spine of the book…